Piccolo's Pride
by Lavande
Summary: DBZ-Ficlet, PG 13 for mild cursing. Some private thoughts that are on the mind of our fav Namekian after the Buu events. ^_^


A Love That Hurts

Piccolo's Pride

The battle is over. Buu has been defeated. With one last big effort, Son Goku destroyed him with a genkidama that held the power of all living beings, and I think I sensed the ki of some fighters I know to be dead, too. Probably even the otherworld has helped us. At least the _Kami_-part within me believes this.

And now the party is going on. The platform Dende, Popo and I live on is almost too small for all these people, the Z Senshi and their families, celebrating their victory as well as the simple fact that they are alive. _Still_ in some – few – cases, _again_ in most. I myself had been killed, too, during that awful battle, along with Gohan and the kids. Gohan… I sigh. The only ones who had really _survived_ are Son Goku, Dende, and Satan.

That Human is here as well, along with Buu. Could be one of the reasons he is seperated from the others. Son Gohan is sitting with him, though, but that would be because the girl came along with her father. I try to remember her name, as I watch her make the boy blush. Videl, isn't it? One of the friends he made in his school.

I shake my head lightly, remembering the chaos with Gohan trying to disguise himself for not wanting to be recognized. He had looked like a clown, and I had to blow up every single camera at the tournament. And all in vain. Well, you can't have everything…

"Hey, Piccolo! Don't wanna eat anything?" a familiar voice screaming into my ear interrupts my thoughts. I turn and face Son Goku, smiling rather happily, with a chicken leg in one hand and a plate with a mountain of salad in the other. I shortly wonder how he gets the salad into his mouth with no free hand, but then again, I don't really want to see.

"I hardly eat in company, water's enough," I tell him.

"Man, you don't know what you're missing!" is his muffled reply, half of the chicken leg being gone in an instant. With the remains, he points over to Satan's table, where the human is frowning at the kids laughing in unison. Buu is displaying his indifferent smile.

"I wonder why there's no one at _their_ table, except Gohan. Without Satan, Vegeta's plan would have failed," Son Goku says.

"Because the man's a complete pain in the neck, and the demon killed us all," comes my rather simple answer. The Saiyan shakes his head.

"That was the evil demon, you know that. And Satan isn't _that_ bad. He's practically a hero."

"Then why don't you tell everybody, perhaps it will work."

Son Goku nodds and leaves me alone, my attention returning to his son. He seems a bit embarassed by something the girl just said. I feel the corner of my mouth twitch. He still is completely innocent, just like his father. Quite a surprise, considering the trainer he once had. Although that training had been a surprise, too. The strength of that kid, for one. And the way the boy had treated me. No fear. No hatred. For the first time, I had been forced to cope with liking, even trust. It had amazed me. It had _changed_ me, so when the boy was in danger, _I_ had died for him. And I would do it again, although he doesn't need me anymore.

That fight against Buu had been evidence of just _how_ strong Gohan had become. I hardly could believe it. This powerful being should be my… I shake my head again, still unnoticed by the others. And still he looks up to me. I wonder why. He had done almost from the beginning. To think of the danger he had put himself in just to wish _me_ back to life, it still makes me shiver. I would never admit that to anyone, including him, though.

I look back at that table, and as I watch the girl make him blush once again, I can hardly suppress my smile. He may not have realized, but I'm ready to bet that it's his future wife I see. I almost sigh. How much he has grown, both in body and spirit…

Dende once asked me why I never produced any offspring. For Namekians, who have always been a small people, even before the disaster, this is almost sacred. And the strong fighter I am, I feel almost a duty to reproduce myself, like my father did before me. Almost.

For I already have a son.


End file.
